Kneel
by BetsunoNeko
Summary: We were just kids, watching the last wisps of dark smoke from distant fires drift behind the mountains. You were always so obsessed with that, watching the smoke. Something about destruction always drew you... So when the army came into town that day, I knew I couldn't stop you. Do you know what Princess Kenetia means? It means victory. I guess you were drawn to that too. [Crenny]
1. Just Another Rat

One

Just Another Rat

We were just kids, sitting together outside, watching the last wisps of dark smoke from distant fires drift behind the mountains. You were always so obsessed with that, watching the smoke. Something about destruction always called you… something about the promise of fire and death just kept pulling you in. I was terrified of the thought that you would wander up to that hill on the border of war on your own and I also knew that if given the change you would.

That's why I went with.

So every Sunday afternoon, when the sun was about to set and the purple mountains in the distance had just begun to cast that looming shadow over the dark forests beneath, we'd hike up from that piss poor town and watch the sun disappear with the smoke that would fade into the blackness of night.

I remember how cold you used to get. Hell, you were always cold and I'd always relent because you whined like a bitch until you got what you wanted. So you'd take my jacket and we'd sit side by side in the dark with only the smoke and the night as our company. We never really needed much else. I was used to the cold anyways.

I don't regret much about those nights. Maybe you'd think I would. Maybe you think that I would blame all those late night conversations about ruling the world as we watched it burn, but I never did. I blamed them—the ones that really deserved it. I don't blame the fact that you volunteered, no, I never did… well, maybe for a while, but I found it too hard to blame you after…

No- no, I don't blame the fact that you volunteered for the front lines, I blame the bitch that let you.

As you stood there, on that same fucking hill in the dead of night with the throngs of blood thirsty, slobbering, bearded men and _her _bathed in golden light from the heavens—as your family screamed and cried, as your own _sister, _Karen, begged and sobbed for you to stay— you just _smiled. _You smiled that pathetically bull-headedly determined smile that just says "I'm doing this and you can't stop it", I marched right up to _her, _past those soldiers and even the guards, I walked straight up to her and looked her in the eye and she smiled too.

"Aren't you going to kneel?" she said in a voice like an angel, like a literal god had blessed her vocal chords at birth. She was not condescending or harsh or even genuine, she was just… playing.

I hated it. So I looked her dead in the eye and said, "That over glorified piece of jewelry on your head means nothing to me. Right now you are just another one of us, standing on piss poor and war torn ground, like you always have been. They're all just too fucking stupid to see it."

She slapped me.

I let her.

So did you.

Despite all rational telling me that there was a crowd of angry soldiers surrounding me, I kept talking. "You cannot take him. I will not let you take him," I declared coldly as a particularly smoky just of wind blew over _our _hill. Smoky wind, just how you liked it.

"Oh?" She questioned, slipping her satin white glove back over her immaculate hands and watching the bruise form on my cheek with avid amusement.

"He's underage. He can't join the army because he's fourteen." I heard you gasp sharply behind me as if I had just committed the most heinous act of betrayal in all of existence. I hated that noise from you.

Then she leaned in, close to my face and cocked her head, blonde locks swaying. She let out this harmonious and gentle laugh in the dead silence that made my stomach churn in utter disgust and looked at me like no less than a drowned rat on the ground. She looked at me like I'd already been crushed beneath her heel.

"You're bravery is quite humbling, my child." I cringed at her choice of words. "And, alas, you are correct in saying this young, strong… handsome lad is too young to_ enroll _into the army, alas—too young to volunteer for the glory of battle… but, fortunately for him…" she drew a finger across my jawline and I had to resist the impulse to head butt her. "… He's being recruited."

At those words I broke. I snapped into ten thousand little pieces with no hope of ever being put back together. She pushed her index finger on my forehead and I found myself on my knees in the muddy grass with lungs full of the hint taste of smoke from far away. She laughed again and you just walked right past me. You walked right past me and stood at her side.

You were already a soldier. You were already _hers. _I was already just another drowned rat.

Then, as I felt the last shred of my future crumbling to dust, she tilted my head to the side with her gloved hand and leaned in, pressing her lips against the bridge of my neck and pecking it. The skin burned with her dragon's acid poison lipstick and she drew away once it had drawn blood and marred the flesh bad enough to scar.

I hated you in that moment. I hated you both in that moment with every fiber of my being. I wanted to rip out your spine and strangle her with it and then scream at you for being such a fool.

But you just _went. _They all just walked away. The entire troop, her, and you.

It was just me and your hysterical family, you cold, cold bastard. And then you had to go and make everything worse by dying.

Because that's how you were, Kenny. You were drawn to destruction and the promise of death, you were drawn to the fire like a phoenix and lord did you go. That was just part of you that I couldn't change no matter how hard I tried.

And when that troop, headed by Princess Kenetia herself marched into our piss poor town, I knew I couldn't hold you back anymore. There was just nothing that I could do that would keep you in my grasp for a second more.

Do you know what Kenetia means in the language of the elves, Kenny?

Victory.

I guess you were drawn to the idea of that, too.


	2. Somethings Are Just

Two

Somethings Are Just...

"Wake up, Craig!" A girl's voice shouts at me. I groan under my breath and roll over, tugging the blanket tighter around myself in the process. The voice groans. "Craig… not again. You said today's important, remember?" I moan louder. "You told me specifically to tell you to, and I quote, 'stop being an ass and crawl out of bed' and that 'today's important'."

Oh. I remember now. Slowly, agonizingly so, I sit up and blink the sleep out of my eyes. A brown haired girl with a dirty and freckled face but eyes the bluest blue you'll ever see hovers over me with a wooden spoon in hand. She's dressed in a brown leather pleated skirt and her black leather boots with a dark, forest green jacket. It's too cold for her to be wearing a skirt like that but if I tell her she'll flip out. Let Ruby do it.

"Is he up yet?" echoes throughout the small space. Speak of the devil…

A strawberry headed girl pokes her head around the corner of the uneven wooden wall that's literally made out of only some wood planks and nails. The floor is dirt. I'm not a master carpenter, okay? I did the best I could.

Ruby comes in the 'room' wearing almost the exact same thing as the brown headed girl but a different and much warmer, brown jacket.

"Mm," I grunt out in response, forcing myself out of the small cot and over to the chest in the corner with my clothes.

"See, Karen? He's like this unless you wake him up with cold water to the face. I tell you this every time, but do you listen? No… Ruby's insane! Why would I listen to _her _of all people?" She goes off on a rant, waving her arms around while I throw on a jacket with a tall neck—the only one tall enough to hide the lip shaped scar on my neck.

"So, Craig," Karen starts. "Care to enlighten us? Why is today so special that you _had _to be woken up this early? You'd usually loathe the idea of waking up in the morning like a normal human being," she jokes, smiling.

I love Karen. She's like my other little sister. No—she is my other little sister. After Kenny's parents died from the plague a year after he… there was no one else. Kenny's older brother, Kevin, has been missing since me and Kenny were thirteen. It went from just me and Ruby to me Ruby and Karen. I think Ken woulda' wanted it this way.

I don't reply to her, she knows I won't tell her anything anyways no matter how hard either of them pry. They have a general idea of what I… do for money but it's not something I want either of them involved in.

"Are you even going to eat this morning?" Ruby asks as I head for the door. I shrug. "Oh so you're going to the tavern, then? The one with all the girls and the assassins, right?" The air fills with tension. "So I am right then. You think I don't _know _that you hang out with those guys, Craig? Or do you think it just doesn't bother me? Cause let me tell-"

"_Ruby._" I punch out through clenched teeth. She shuts up. I wait a moment before speaking again. "Karen, c'mere for a second."

I head silently out the front door with the nervous and sullen looking brunette behind me. She closes the door and I speak in a hushed tone.

"You remember what I said?"

"Yes, Craig. I remember. You drill this into me every time you leave. The extra money is in the bottom of your trunk along with the contact of a guy you trust. If something ever happens and you don't come back when you said you would, we'll go to him," she recites at me in a similar monotone. I clap her on the shoulder before heading around the shack of a house to where we keep Stripe.

She raises her head from the grass to eye level and nudges my neck with her snout. I rub my hand down her neck and through her mane once before securing her saddle and climbing on top. She lets out a barking kind of snort before starting to move.

* * *

><p>The tavern reeks like whiskey and beer. It's dead silent this time of day but that's to be expected, because, well, it's ten in the morning. The only people that really come to the Giggling Donkey at this time are the ones that don't come to drink. Well… most of the time.<p>

As the scraggly looking man slaps down a large pint of something awful, I slide into the bar stool beside his.

"Talk," he demands in a gruff accent that suggests a rural childhood.

"So, you said you'd know today if your source was correct or not," I start, waving the bar tender, Jimmy, off. I can't drink today. Maybe later.

"Oh. Zat. I would tell you, Tucker, to let eet drop, but we both know zat eet ees not goeeng to 'appen, oui?"

"Mole…" I hiss, not in the mood for his shit.

"Alright, alright. Eet ees true. Ze Paladin and ze 'ead of ze royal guard are away but ze _lady _has stayed," Christophe mutters under his breath, running a hand through his dark brown hair.

Christophe has been more or less my informant for a while. He is a trustworthy guy that's kinda' ruthless and I've never had any huge complications when working with him before. It'd be a more permanent set up if I didn't prefer working alone or if he didn't have a partner already. I've met the guy once or twice, Gregory, I think. Stupid accent and an even dumber orange hat that covered his ears and was like a bowl, really. Not exactly an elf-garb kinda' hat but more like the ones that merchants sell. I think they're called beanie hats but I've never dwelled on it much. Gregory's a good guy.

My other informant is a really paranoid son of a bitch that actually works on the royal guard, a blonde kid named Tweek. He's a couple years younger than me but _damn _he's good at spying. He couldn't be available this time though.

"Good."

"Wait- one more zing, Tucker. Ze Paladin and ze 'ead guard may be gone, but rumor 'az eet zat ze wizard ees still in ze castle," he says forlornly.

Well shit.

"Doesn't matter," I tell him gruffly. "This is still the best opportunity I'm going to have.

"I agree, but… are you sure zat you still want to go through wiz eet? Alone?"

I nod without hesitation. "I have to."

The wooden door behind the counter that leads to the back swings open and a busty and gorgeous blonde girl in a skimpy outfit emerges, wiping a glass down.

"Oh, Craig!" she coos. "Out for a drink this early?"

"No."

She laughs. "Good, good. And how are you, Mole?"

"Fine, _ma dame, et vous?_" She giggles at the sultry accent. I roll my eyes.

"Just fine."

A voice from the back calls, "Bebe, come back here!" She sighs.

"Look, I gotta' help the girls with their costumes for tonight…so much to do still… look, I'll see you guys around, alright? Jimmy'll be back out soon to fill that up for ya' Mole. Bye Craig," Bebe calls as a parting remark before heading back behind the bar and disappearing.

"I assume zat you are going now?" Christophe grumbles.

"Yeah."

"And I also assume zat eet would be pointless to wish you good luck?"

"Yeah."

"Good luck anyways."

"Yeah."

* * *

><p>The castle walls are enormous, that's for sure. It took the entirety of the day to get to the royal city, and now, beneath the castle's outer walls, hiding in the shadows silently as the blanket of night finally settles, along comes the realization with it.<p>

Oh my god.

It's finally happening.

I'll finally get to kill Kenetia.

Getting inside isn't going to be difficult—no, it will be difficult, but comparatively, not so much. I can scale walls just fine, especially with my equipment and on this kind of stone. It's what I do for a living. Perform small acts of theft or assistance to the criminal world to get in with my few informants in the royal guard so I can slip in if opportunity presents itself. And it has. _God, has it. _

I know the two men on patrol of this side of the castle at night. They won't shoot me with arrows because they expect me and owe me a favor too. Which creates the perfect opening.

I dig around in my small satchel for the rouge's iron rings that have claws at the end specifically for scaling stone. I have one for each finger and a small hook built into the back of the heel of my shoe. With a small jump I'm on the wall, catapulting up it like a spider in no time at all, adrenaline spurring me on.

I reach the last stretch of stone and before I know it, I'm standing on top of the castle. I spot my man on the end of the wall in the right guard tower. I head over there quickly, sprinting so my footsteps aren't heard.

The door opens for me.

"Scott," I greet him plainly.

"Tucker," he slurs, a lisp impairing is speech. I helped him steal something very valuable to him back from the wizard, some fat asshole who's apparently close friends with _her. _Rumor has it that he's the one controlling everything, that _she's _just a puppet head. I know better. I've met the bitch.

"Didn't you hear? The wizard hasn't left the castle. I thought you'd call this off," he tries to explain desperately but while handing me the keys anyways.

"Yes, I heard. I don't give a fuck."

And I'm gone, through the door and now into the corridors of the castle. The rest happens in a daze. Avoiding guards, navigating identical corridors one after another. Surprisingly, all goes smoothly. Then I'm there. The hallway outside the entrance to _her _chambers.

The hall before the doors to the bedroom is ornate, decorated floor to ceiling with paintings and treasures from all around the world, even from places beyond the kingdom. There is a painting of the previous princess, Ananria (old Zaronian for goddess) and a painting of the one before her, Learythan (old Zaronian for battle). A large sword hangs above the door in a glass case.

Something feels off. Maybe it's the absence of guards in front of the door, or maybe just that this is all so real. Maybe it's just that everything I've ever dreamed of is coming real—finally.

I take a deep breath and walk into the hall. My footsteps are silent. All I can hear is my heartbeat in my own ear with each step until I'm at the door.

For the late Mr. and Mrs McCormick.

For the people.

For Karen.

For me.

For Ken.

I push open the door.

The room is glowing with candle light and the whole place smells like spice and wax. An ornate chandelier hangs over probably the most comfortable looking bed in existence. Beside the bed is a vanity mirror framed in gold and gems. Before it, _her. _

Blonde hair that's a little darker than I remember it falls in a wave down her back. A deep purple robe that covers her feet and has a train sits around her shoulders, held up by a silk black bow, tied in back. That glorified piece of jewelry sits on her head.

And then she speaks. "Cartman I said I-"

My sword is already drawn.

Her face is expressionless and… flawlessly beautiful. So much so I want to spit in it. She's silent so I speak.

"Do you remember me?" I ask coldly, showing nothing but anger. She doesn't respond. I pull down my collar to show the scar she seared into my skin. Something crosses her face. Something doesn't look the same about her. Probably because she got old. Hah. Ugly bitch. "Do you… remember me?"

"We've been expecting you. Sir Malkinson is just _terrible _at keeping secrets, you know," she says calmly, examining her finger nails. I blanch. You know what? Well fuck her. I'm still doing this. "You came in with less of a bang than I had hoped for. I had such high expectations for you… the one with all those guts all those years back." She sits on the bed.

I take a few long strides forward, holding the sword tight in my grasp.

"You aren't going to kill me, you know," she says coolly, a smirk forming at the corners of her rose tinted lips. "You won't get the chance." She picks at her nails again. "Any second now a dozen armed guards and Grand Wizard Cartman are going to rush through that door," she points like I don't know where it is, "and do terrible, awful things to you."

"I'm going to kill yo-", I start but she cuts me off.

"I think I might watch." And she smiles.

But it's not her smile.

Her smile is so cold and dead and just pure demonic that it could make my stomach churn, this _isn't. _Her smile makes my blood turn to ice. This one _doesn't. _Her smile makes me want to plunge the blade of my sword through her pretty little head. _This. Doesn't. _

I take a staggering step backwards.

"Now, why don't you get out of here before I decide to kill you first?" she says snidely, still wearing that grin. But it's not the _same. _

Another step.

I know that smile.

I know that face.

"I think I will-"

"Kenny?" I whisper, barely audible.

The dead silence in the room is heavy enough to smother me. Her face contorts for a second, the smile falls, but then returns. This time it's… it's so… Her eyes water and a hand moves through the cascade of blonde hair on her head.

"Well fuck me," a clearly male voice says now. It's still the princess talking, it's still Princess Kenetia, the woman I've despised for the past seven years of my life but it's not her voice.

I lose grip on my sword and it clatters to the marble floor. I take another step back, nearly falling flat on my ass this time. I can't even feel my legs anymore. My senses have all left me and the only thing I can see is his face—Kenny's face, Kenny's voice, Kenny's laugh, Kenny's fucking _smile. _

This time I do fall, my head hits the ground and the world spins violently. It hurts. Everything hurts so fucking much and I can't—

"Shit! Butters! Butters get in here!" she- _he _shouts and there are hands against me and I manage to say one thing before I completely lose it.

"You unbelievable dick..." and then I'm gone.

* * *

><p>For a brief moment I'm aware of something touching me. The smell of floor polish and… wax. My head pounds ferociously and everything hurts so fucking <em>much. <em>

"Drink this…" A voice coaxes and something cold is tipped to my lips. Whiskey. I want to puke so badly. "I'm sorry, Craig…" Kenny? Kenny, I'm… I'm… it _hurts. _I moan through the vile liquid being basically thrown down my throat and a hand moves through my sweat covered hair.

"Is he gon' be okay?" A new voice says.

"_Yes," _Kenny hisses. "Of course. He needs to be…" The liquid stops.

I choke and cough and splutter before relaxing back onto whatever is holding me. God it's so soft and smells just like… just like Kenny. His home… his stupid jacket that I ended up stealing him for his tenth birthday… just him everywhere.

"K-kenny…?" I mumble, weak and incoherent.

"Yup, I'm here. Just… drink this, okay? And then we'll go see the smoke, okay? We'll go see the smoke…" More whiskey. Something soft and warm and a little wet presses against my lips for a second before everything goes black.

* * *

><p>When I wake up my head hurts so fucking bad. It's like I've been trampled over by four horses all at once. <em>Kenny. <em>I bolt upright, ignoring the pain in the back of my head protesting against it. I'm slumped out in a street behind a couple barrels and the wall of a… bar?

No…

A busty girl with dark brown hair dressed in skimpy clothes leans against the wall in front of me as she smokes.

"Fun night, huh?" she says briskly.

"Wha…?" I mutter.

She chuckles. "Figured you wouldn't remember. You got so slammed you fell into a table," the girl explains calmly, laughing. I moan as a migraine creeps up on me. The smell of vomit is over powering. "I live down on the south end of Zaron… guessing by your clothes that's where you're from too? Heard of the Giggling Donkey? I live just a few miles from there. If you ever wanna' 'get together' again, I'm there Tuesday nights."

She puts out her cigarette before planting a much unwanted kiss in my hair and walking away.

What.

"What?" I call after her.

And then to no one, "What?"


End file.
